Why Benjamin Franklin Was More Productive Than I Am

Jason Oberholtzer
, ContributorI write about charts, data visualization and all things InternetOpinions expressed by Forbes Contributors are their own.

I find it nearly impossible to avoid distraction. Rare are the days I can put together the solid four hour chunk of time proven necessary to get good, deep work done. In the time it took me to write these first two sentences, I responded to a tweet, checked the title of the Tim Hecker piece I am listening to, paused to reassess how I compare him to Fennesz, opened up Hannah Elliott's article on Jay-Z in a new tab for later reading, read a comment on my new Facebook profile picture, got a text that Michael Pineda was pitching tonight, checked his availability in my fantasy league, and deleted a John Hodgman podcast from my last.fm library (which doesn't reflect negatively on John Hodgman, I just prefer that the website chronicle music exclusively). At this point, I put on a Fennesz album and started finishing this paragraph. Hold on, I just got a text about a friend of a friend giving away a laptop...

Ok, I'm back. The point is, there are (another comment on my profile picture) a lot of distractions (Facebook message going into further detail about previous text regarding laptop) to contend with when trying to set aside time for any work that requires deeper thought than snapping off email replies. (Posting new chart on I Love Charts). If you are in a creative industry, this can be very problematic (quick email response regarding a rather exciting contract negotiation--details to follow later this summer). Unfortunately for me, as a musician and a writer, I've chosen some pursuits where learning to avoid distractions might very well be the key to my success. (Responding to tweet). To help, I tried adhering to a daily schedule, but quickly realized that it was impossible to accurately follow. At any moment, a barrage of emails, messages, must-read articles, chart submissions, etc. could upset my otherwise productive day, which was already unreasonably dissected into fifteen minute increments to account for my wide variety of responsibilities and interests, while still leaving that one magical four hour block of time in the afternoon untouched. Day after day, I found myself eating into those four hours with other business, beginning late, ending early (text about message about text about laptop) and never feeling mentally removed enough from the flurry of activity which comprised the rest of my day to do any worthwhile creative work. I gave up on the schedule.

Now, I try to roll with the distractions, let them fuel me, like an inefficient sailboat (somebody likes my profile picture) in a great wind which keeps changing directions. That simile barely makes sense, but finding the proper metaphor would take actual thought and time that I just don't have. (Fennesz is better).

Contrast my abortive attempts at a daily schedule to one we find in Ben Franklin's autobiography. Here was a man who clearly never had to contend with social media, fantasy baseball or the instant response to a new profile picture (reading new twitter responses to the last chart I put up). Where my days are frantic, jagged, anxiety-inducing invitations to agoraphobia, his seem purposeful, reasonable and productive. Not one, but two four hour blocks of work, along with proper diet, sleep and socialization. Moments of reflection (putting on an Ahmad Jamal album) and spirituality. I'm not sure it's possible for those of my generation to construct our days like this, but perhaps we should aspire to something similar. Or, we should invent a time machine to go back and give Productivity Franklin a Twitter account...take him down a couple notches.